


Hold Me Closer

by WrittenKinzy18



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Dreamtale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Errortale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Inktale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Undertale Multiverse | UTMV (Undertale), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Bad Sanses | Nightmare's Gang (Undertale), Blood and Injury, Cross probably would be too but he's out there being bad, Dreamtale Nightmare Sans (Undertale), Dreamtale Nightmare Sans Being a Jerk (Undertale), Dreamtale Sans | Dream (Undertale), Errorink - Freeform, Errortale Sans (Undertale), Errortale Sans/Inktale Sans (Undertale), Fluff and Angst, Geno Fresh and Error are brothers, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe That Wasn't A Tag, Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury Recovery, Inktale Sans (Undertale), Inktale Sans Being an Idiot (Undertale), Inktale Sans needs a hug (Undertale), Kidnapping, M/M, Major Character Injury, Oreo Brothers, POV Errortale Sans, Poor Inktale Sans (Undertale), Protective Errortale Sans (Undertale), Rated T for swearing, Reaper and Ink are as well, Reapertale Sans (Undertale), Soulless Inktale Sans (Undertale), Threats of Violence, Underlust Sans (Undertale), Underswap Sans (Undertale), cuz why not, emotionless Inktale Sans (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28768344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrittenKinzy18/pseuds/WrittenKinzy18
Summary: Error and the Stars just noticed Ink had been missing for a few days. He either forgot he had places to be, as per usual, or he got himself into trouble once again.Error plans on finding out, even if it means storming Nightmare’s castle himself.
Relationships: AfterDeath - Relationship, Errorink, Ink & Lust, Ink & Reaper, Ink & blueberry, Ink/Error, Reaper/Geno, Sans & Sans (Undertale), Sans/Sans (Undertale), ink & dream, it's mentioned at least - Relationship
Comments: 8
Kudos: 119





	Hold Me Closer

**Author's Note:**

> I just really like Errorink, alright? I know it's an overly done ship, but sue me, it's cute.
> 
> Also, Ink angst. Tis my jam. :D
> 
> Also also, saw people making Cross, Ink, and Reaper brothers (the heckin' Oreo Brothers, I love it-), and for Some Reason, I really like that idea. Cross isn't so much in that brotherhood here, but I'd like to think he would be "adopted" in later on lmao.

“Error?”

Error looked up from his project, a bit surprised to see Dream in his Anti-Void. The Guardian didn’t exactly look very excited to be there, either. His yellow eyelights shifted around him, nervously taking in his surroundings. The glitch couldn’t blame him, of course. His home wasn’t exactly the most welcoming, especially for goody-two-shoes like the Star Sanses.

White for as far as the eye could see, a menacing web of blue strings strategically hung over their heads, tangled around dusty dolls and quivering souls, both human and monster. The nicest things he had here were a few beanbags, a TV courtesy of Ink, a bookshelf for his supplies, and a knitted hammock made of the same strings, strung up high off the ground. It was a strange place to live, but Error liked it all the same.

He never got visiters; not even the Gang liked coming here. Blue could stay for a while before its atmosphere became too familiar — too eerie. Fresh and Geno would much rather hang out in a place that was less cold and not as mildly threatening. Ink especially disliked it, for reasons the Protector couldn’t explain. He couldn’t look at the blank white world for too long without getting uncharacteristically nervous, despite his paints. It was part of the reason he gave Error so many things to spice it up, so they could lay together in the hammock without the whiteness overwhelming the artist.

It was a lonely space, really. But, honestly, Error liked it that way. The Anti-Void was a dangerous place for other living beings to be in too long (he was a prime example of that fact), but it was also _his_ place.

He didn’t spend as much time in “his place” as he did before Ink and Error’s truce, as the Doodle Sphere was far more comfortable, but at least he got some alone time here.

Well, until now.

He set down the doll he’d been working on — the beginnings of a Fresh Sans, for his idiot of a “brother” — and raised a brow at Dream. “I thought you hated it here,” he muttered, curious.

“Well, yes, but, um,” the other skeleton rung his hands, noticeably trying hard not to look up at Error’s vast collection, “I needed to ask you something.”

“Must be pretty important if you’re coming here face-to-face.”

Meeting with the Star Sanses (or really, any of the good AU Sanses in general) was a dangerous game. The Creator and Destroyer may have made a truce in favor of the Multiverse’s balance, but Nightmare and his Gang didn’t know that. As long as the Stars and him had a say in it, they _wouldn’t_ know that any time soon.

Error wasn’t scared of them by any means. He knew, if push came to shove, deleting every single one of the “Bad Sanses” (a lazy name, in his opinion, but Sanses weren’t exactly creative) would be a piece of cake. It’s why he never officially joined the Gang. The last thing he cared about was being ordered around by some whiny nobody Guardian who thought himself a god. However, he also knew of Dream’s desire to get his brother back. Before, he wouldn’t have given two shits for that hope. Now?

Well, he’d _say_ Positivity and Negativity were also necessary for the balance, but he knew there was _some_ growing soft spot for the damn good guys in his soul now.

He’d rather die than admit it aloud, though.

So, he agreed to keep everything on the downlow to avoid conflict. It also allowed them to have a bit of an insider on their plans, as well, as limited as Error’s interactions were. So long as Nightmare thought he was still a merciless Destroyer, he’d still assume Error had “uses,” and invite him to meetings all the same.

Whatever. Error didn’t mind being a shitty spy. It made things interesting. Plus, it would be all the more amusing when Nightmare eventually _did_ catch wind of his betrayal.

The thought almost made him grin, had Dreams next words not concerned him as much as they did.

“Just… have you seen Ink?”

_‘Oop. Your mans be missing, Ru.’_

_‘He’s probably messing around in a new AU again. Didn’t this happen once before?’_

_‘Boringgg.’_

Error’s eye socket twitched at the influx of voices, ignoring them easily. “No, I haven’t. We hung out a couple days ago, I think. Why?” He hadn’t talked to the creator since then. Usually, he sent a text or something every day, just in case, but he hadn’t the last couple of days. He’d been hanging around the Star Sanses a lot lately, and the glitch really just wanted some alone time.

Maybe radio silence wasn’t the _best_ way to go about that.

But then again, as Voice Number Sixteen had said, this had happened before. Ink was easily distracted, after all. He wasn’t too worried.

Dream visibly deflated, his expression getting more nervous by the second. At the very least, he seemed to have forgotten where he was for the moment. “I haven’t seen him in a few days, either. He was supposed to come to my home today for a dinner with Lust, Blue and I, but he never showed up. I checked his cabin to make sure he hadn’t just forgotten, but it was empty.” He rubbed his arms nervously, taking a few steps closer to Error’s beanbag. “It was… a little messy? Cleaner than usual, but weird, if that makes sense… I was just hoping maybe he’d come to visit you, or something.”

Error sat up in his seat. “Messy as in a struggle, or messy like he was working on something?”

“I… couldn’t tell. I didn’t know if you two just had a couple’s spat or…” The Guardian shook his head, opening a golden ringed portal behind him. “I don’t know. Can you help me check it out? I’m just worried he’s gotten himself into trouble.”

Nodding, Error pushed the materials he had off his lap, letting them fall unceremoniously to the floor. He hardly cared if the stitches got screwed up at the moment. He’d fix it later. With a slight huff, Error got up and followed Dream through his portal.

They came out on the lawn of Ink’s home in the Doodle Sphere. Lust and Blueberry were sat on the porch chairs, chatting quietly between the two of them. When he saw the two arrive, Blue immediately brightened and stood to greet them.

“Hello, Error!” The small skeleton smiled uncertainly. “Sorry to bother you during your alone time.”

“I’m sure Ink’s just off in La La Land somewhere without telling anyone,” Lust said with a shrug, “but it couldn’t hurt to check it out. We just figured if something did happen, you’d definitely notice.”

“Yeah! You’re here so often, and you know the Gang the best!”

A playful smile graced Lust’s face behind Blue. “Yeah, you’re here _so often.”_

A dusting of yellow came to Error’s cheeks. He glared harshly at the Underlust monster, only gaining a teasing wink in return.

Him and Ink might be… _something_ , whatever that is, but they hadn’t _done anything_. He had a sneaking suspicion Lust knew that, but just wanted to be an ass anyway.

It wouldn’t surprise him in the slightest.

“Whatever,” he muttered, following Dream into the home quickly.

Nothing looked off in the living room. Error had convinced Ink to expand it recently, so their multiverse meetings didn’t have to be held on his lawn anymore. It was still a bit of a mess from the renovating. Well, more than usual for the artist anyway. Ink wasn’t exactly quick to finish the job, after all. Some furniture still had to be shuffled around, and a lot of the beanbags and blankets they’d been using outside were piled up in the corner. A lot of the new wall space was empty, which looked strange compared to the chaos of posters, canvases, and pinned sketches Ink had everywhere else.

The Destroyer glanced around with a keen eye, in case he missed anything, before following the Guardian to the stairwell. He heard the telltale sound of Lust and Blue following a bit behind him.

Upstairs, there was a small hallway leading to a bathroom, Ink’s room, and Ink’s studio. A quick peak in his room as he walked by showed nothing but the usual piles of pillows and the occasional pencil or sketchbook. Dream seemed more concerned with the art studio, so Error kept moving.

When he reached the room, he suddenly understood their uneasy concern.

It was very subtle, but something was definitely wrong.

Ink’s art room was usually a train wreck as it was. Artwork took up nearly every space on the walls, some barely holding on by the tape he used to pin them up. Papers piled in the corner, a glass drawing desk littered with works in progress on every available surface, and countless brushes and pencils strewn across the place. His boxes, typically used to store specific materials or paints, were almost always dumped over or placed in inconvenient places. Error always had to force the Protector to clean up fairly regularly, if only to avoid it being such a fire hazard.

Right now, however, the room wasn’t as messy as he’d expected it would be. Usually, Ink just being in here for a day would leave the room looking like a tornado ran through it. In fact, besides a few stray things here and there, it looked as though Ink had just cleaned it and hadn’t used it much since then. Most of his supplies, surprisingly, were still in their proper cups and shelves. His canvases were neatly stacked and arranged by the closet in the corner. Though the closet’s doors were thrown open, and a few jars of paint had been pulled down, the inside was still organized by color and medium. Even his desk, usually the first thing to get messy, was made up nicely.

He had a stool and an easel set up in the very center of the relatively clean room. The canvas that was once on the stand was lying flat on the floor. The few missing jars of paint sat on the hardwood floor beside it. The red one was tipped over and spilt across the floor, completely dried out.

Any doubt he had moments before was replaced with immediate concern. Error made his way to the canvas on the floor, quickly picking it up.

_‘Aw, that’s adorable!’_

_‘It’s definitely unfinished. He never abandons works this early on.’_

_‘We don’t have time to admire the artwork! Move it, people!’_

_‘Ink would never just carelessly leave this on the floor.’_

He looked uncertainly at the unfinished portrait of himself. It was a relaxed picture of the Destroyer, curled up in a blanket with a soft smile, gazing back at the viewer from the side. It was likely from one of the many times him and Ink sat on his couch and watched a movie in the living room. The artist had an annoying habit of drawing Error from memory, whatever little he had. He always promised to keep the sketches private, but Error refused to let him paint anything.

Asshole apparently still did. Error couldn’t find it in himself to be very mad about that right now.

Ink had only gotten the pencil sketch done on the white surface, a single stroke of red highlighting his eye socket. A few of the lines were smudged.

Fucking hell. He doesn’t talk to the squid for three days, and he goes and gets himself kidnapped or something.

“Something definitely happened,” he growled, glaring at the canvas as he set it on the easel.

“You think so?” Dream asked worriedly.

“Maybe he just rushed out, though,” Lust suggested, though he was looking more anxious with Error’s claim. “He might have just forgotten he was working on anything.”

Error shook his head, crossing his arms and glancing around the room more. “No. He hasn’t been here in days.”

“How do you know that?”

“I helped him clean in here when I came over a few days ago. That’s the only time he ever _does_ clean it, the messy asshole.” Yellow and blue eyelights flickered to the Stars standing in the doorway still. “If he had been here since then, this place would be a pigsty all over again.” He gestured to the canvas. “He barely got started on a new project before something stopped him. Considering the canvas was knocked over, and one of his good jars of paint is completely ruined? Whatever happened wasn’t good.”

“Are you saying someone showed up?” Blue muttered, horrified. “Did someone take him?!”

“I don’t know.” The glitch clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. There wasn’t a fight, by any means. Nothing was destroyed, and Dream lives on a floating island nearby. If anything loud happened, he’d most likely hear it, if not sense a newcomer’s emotions. If someone showed up, it had to have been not long after Error left. Dream would have assumed it was just him he was sensing.

He immediately knew it wasn’t Nightmare. There was no way the prick could show up without his overwhelming aura alerting his brother.

However, that didn’t rule out his Gang entirely.

“I’m going to check out Nightmare’s realm,” he announced, moving towards the doorway. The others parted for him, letting him pass without bumping into the glitch.

“Wait, what?” Dream hurriedly followed after him with the other Stars. “You can’t just pop up uninvited! That’s way too suspicious, even if they do have him!”

“And we’re not sure they _do,”_ the purple clad skeleton added. “You might be blowing your cover for nothing.”

“I’m not gonna blow shit,” Error growled.

Dream scoffed. “And what if they do have him? Are you going to leave him there? Come report back to us instead?”

“If they have him, I don’t give a shit about what they find out. I’ll get him out if I have to delete every fucker in the castle.”

The Guardian faltered at that but kept pace with the dark skeleton anyway.

Blue held out a hand as if to set it on the Destroyer’s shoulder, but he kept back. “You can’t do that, though! I agree that getting Ink back is of the utmost priority, but we can’t kill them either!”

Having just stepped outside the front door, Error spun around to glare at the three. They jolted to a stop. “Look around, Blue. Ink isn’t _here._ That means he’s alive somewhere. _Alive_ , because if he’d been killed, the squid would just respawn or whatever _here_. If he’s been missing for _days,_ and Nightmare’s fuckers are the ones that have him? And he _isn’t dead?_ They’re torturing the fucker.” The trio’s eyelights shrunk in horror. Error sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Look, I’m not just going to pop in unannounced. If I can, I’ll keep up my whole ‘merciless murderer’ façade. If I can, I won’t fight them at all. But if I _have to?_ I don’t give a shit.”

That wasn’t completely true. If it came to it, Error was more likely to fight to incapacitate than kill. As much as he hated most of the assholes in the Gang, they were somewhat friends. Barely. Kind of.

Nightmare wasn’t, but he had other reasons to keep that asshole alive.

Still, brutally breaking their skulls in was still an option if they actually took Ink.

“How are you getting in, then?” Dream asked softly. He still looked uncertain, but at least he recognized this was something that at least needed to be considered.

Error took a breath, turning back towards the vast Doodle Sphere. “I’m going to destroy a few AUs. None of the protected ones, of course. I’m not breaking our truce. But they can’t just be dead universes. Nightmare would never believe me. I’ll take out a few and show up at their castle to ask why the Protector hasn’t shown up to fight me. If they have him, they will more than likely want to brag about it.”

“What if they don’t have him?” Lust asked, shifting on his feet.

“Then I’ll come back, and we’ll talk about it. Search his favorite AUs, see if there’s another major threat we didn’t know about. We’ll make a plan.”

“And if they do?”

“I’ll get him out.”

He didn’t wait for a response. They didn’t give one anyway. Error brought his fingers up to his eye sockets, pulling out a set of light blue strings. In one swift movement, he whipped them towards the nearest island and hooked them on the navy trunk of a tree. He propelled himself up quickly, landing skillfully on the lush grass.

Dispelling his strings, Error plucked the nearest page from the sky, glancing at it quickly. It was a version of Underfell, showcasing a concept sketch of the skelebros. The image faded to one of the AU’s Undyne, dressed in ragged dark clothes. It seemed the story focused more on her character than the Sans. Unusual, but not unheard of. Hopefully, its uniqueness meant Ink could bring it back easier.

He took a mental note of the basic idea of the AU before tearing the page in half. All energy from that AU was snuffed out quickly. The image on it quickly lost its luster and the edges crinkled up. Folding up the torn papers, Error stuffed them in his pocket and reached for a new AU.

He’d have to apologize to Ink later. Hopefully, these weren’t too new. The last thing he wanted was to be the reason behind Creators giving up on an idea too soon.

After tearing up a knock off Sugartale, Underlust, and Swapfell, Error finally made his way back to Ink’s home. The three Stars were back to sitting on the porch. Surprisingly, he noticed (with a bit of unease) Reaper was there now as well.

It shouldn’t have been surprising, now that he thought about it. He just killed a good five-to-six thousand monsters in a few minutes. That was sure to attract Death’s attention, especially if he thought Error was breaking the truce somehow.

The god glanced away from the others as he approached, kicking off the wall he’d been leaning on. Giving the other a hollow-eyed stare, Reaper nodded at him.

“Bring him back alright, yeah?” he muttered.

Reaper and Error had a bit of a strained relationship, seeing as the god was sort-of-brothers to Ink and was dating Error’s sort-of-brother, Geno. Not to mention the natural connection Death had with Destruction, always causing more work for each other. Neither of them necessarily _liked_ their job, but they understood its important. Error had his own, more personal reasons for being uncomfortable around Reaper as well. He was still learning to let that go.

Typically, the two tried to stay out of the other’s way. When it came to family though, they got along alright.

Error just nodded back, opening a glitchy portal to his right. Lust gave him a little wave while the other two shuffled uncomfortably in their chairs. With a sigh, the Destroyer disappeared from sight.

-:(o):-

Error was sure to hop through multiple random AUs before coming to Nightmare’s castle. The last thing he needed was them tracking his portal down to the Doodle Sphere. He also made sure to school his emotions carefully, not letting any of his anxiety or sparking anger well up where Nightmare could practically smell it.

This was a common routine Error had gotten accustomed to in his time “working” with the Gang. Even before his truce, he wasn’t all to willing to let anyone manipulate him by knowing small details like where he’d been or what mood he was in. Emotions were so easy to play with when one knew how their target felt, and Nightmare was very skilled in that department. Error had seen him rial Horror’s anger towards undeserving monsters, or mold Killer’s regret into a desire for revenge. He didn’t know how many times Nightmare had played with Dream’s remorse and self-loathing, or kick at Blue’s insecurities. Emotions were merely clay to the Guardian. He could pinch and carve and sculpt them however he pleased.

Nightmare was a master at manipulation, but two could play that game. Error wasn’t so willing to get caught up in that web.

It likely made him more interesting, unfortunately, but at least being interesting kept him in Nightmare’s good graces.

It wasn’t difficult finding the Guardian of Negativity. When he wasn’t sleeping in his quarters, the asshole was either in his study, or in the throne room basking in his own ego. Considering no one was jumping on his ass the moment he showed up, it was safe to assume everyone was in the latter. That was usually where Nightmare would hold small meetings, or where he’d reem the Murder Trio out for doing something stupid.

Pettily, Error hoped they were getting their asses ripped when he came in.

After taking a deep breath to calm himself and put on a mask of uncaring curiosity, Error pushed open the large doors and stepped into the room. Sure enough, the entire Gang was stood obediently in line before the self-proclaimed King. They all turned around as the door slammed shut behind him.

Error stuffed his hands nonchalantly in his pockets, raising a brow at the group. “Am I interrupting?”

Nightmare smiled like a cat watching his prey. “Of course not, Error. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Pleasure my ass,” Horror muttered under his breath, glaring at the Destroyer as his grip tightened around his axe’s handle. Error ignored him.

“Was curious if you’d done something I didn’t know about,” he shrugged. “I’ve been taking down a few anomalies, and the most I got was some half-assed scuffle with the golden asshole and his fucking puppy.”

“Ah, missing your favorite artist then, are we?”

_‘Oooh, that’s a confirmation, if I’ve ever heard one.’_

_‘Dammit.’_

Error raised a brow. “So you did do something then?”

“Maybe.” Nightmare casually leaned his head on his fist, propped up on the arm of his throne. His tentacles curled gleefully behind him, dripping his disgusting goop across the throne. “Why are you looking into it?”

“Is it not as fun fighting the weaker Stars?” Dust snickered, a dark look in his eyelights. “I knew you liked the fight more than you let on. You act all high and mighty, but you’re just like us.”

Error glowered at the hooded Sans, but otherwise didn’t dignify his taunting with a response. “It’s suspiciously quiet. Wanted to be sure if he was really outta commission, or if the squid had something planned.”

“Silence is a bit concerning, I understand.” Nodding, the Guardian waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, we’ve taken care of the artist. He’ll likely dust in the dungeons eventually, and you’ll have free reign over the AUs.”

_‘That’s such bullshit.’_

For once, he had to agree with the voices. Error almost laughed, for multiple reasons. His ignorance of how the multiverse actually worked was comical in itself. Even if Ink did dust, he’d be right back within a few days. It wasn’t ideal, by any means, as dying wasn’t exactly a fun experience, but it’s helpful in its own ways. The Creators couldn’t just let their Protector die, after all. Error’d killed the asshole enough times to know it wasn’t a permanent solution.

And the bit about having “free reign?” Hilarious. For there to be negativity, there had to be someone to feel negative. Nightmare didn’t want the full destruction of the multiverse, because he’d die right alongside it. No, it’s more likely that, if Ink actually _could_ die as they expected he would, the Gang would turn on Error in a heartbeat.

He’d be the next target, even over Dream. The idea was laughable.

Nightmare thought _far_ too highly of himself.

“So he’s in the dungeon then?”

That teal green eyelight grew dark. “What does it matter?”

Error hardly flinched under the harsh stare. “You have the Protector shackled down in one place— the one that causes me the most issues reaching my goal. I can hardly keep him still long enough to land a good, satisfying hit on that smug ass face. Yet, you’ve got him here, wrapped up like a damn present. You think I don’t want a piece of that?” A wicked grin crossed his face. His voice crackled with plastic malice. “Why let him waste away when I can end his pitiful existence, right here and now?”

The Murder Trio grinned right along with him, snickering to themselves. It was sickening, really, how giddy they got at the idea of killing. Not for the first time, he was reminded of a certain demonic child with rosey cheeks and a similar grin.

He really wanted to get Ink and get the fuck out.

Nightmare watched him expressionlessly for a long moment. Error could practically feel the other dissecting his emotions as if they were some lab rat, pinned to a dish to study. He kept his façade up carefully, feeling a bit giddy at the idea of backstabbing the Guardian in the near future. He focused on that feeling, hoping it was enough to fool the empath.

It must have worked, as Nightmare smiled moments later.

Well, that’s assuming he’s not trying to trick Error into complacency. It was hard to tell sometimes. The octopus was a slippery fucker.

It didn’t matter. He was getting Ink back one way or another.

“Killer, Cross,” both skeletons immediately looked up upon being addressed, the former perking up excitedly, “Escort him to the artist’s room, please. Give him a grand tour, if he wants.” He turned that glowing gaze back to Error. “I don’t know how _fun_ he’ll be anymore, but all our tools are yours to use. I’m sure you’ll find some way to entertain yourself.”

The three mentioned monsters nodded in response. Killer happily ran to the large doors, throwing it open and looking back at the others expectedly. Error followed after him with an annoyed look, letting Cross take up the rear.

When they had entered the long hallway and the cackles of the remaining murders cut off behind the large doors, Error turned a questioning glance to the quiet skeleton beside him. “What’d he mean by that?” he grumbled.

Cross glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, raising a brow in question. “By what?” he asked under his mask.

“He said it wouldn’t be any fun. The fuck does that mean?”

Killer snorted ahead of them, tossing a knife above his head as he walked on. The blade sliced skillfully through the air in rapid circles before landing safely back in his boney palm with a _clink_. Their footsteps echoed in the corridor, emphasizing the silence. It was a ridiculously large castle for only five skeletons. Error was still convinced the Guardian was overcompensating. “The fucker’s unresponsive now. It’s really boring.”

A slight pang shot through his soul, but he squashed it down. He wasn’t out of the clear yet. “Unresponsive?” he scoffed. “As if you could get that asshole to stop fucking talking.”

“Hm, we thought so too.” Killer pouted. He actually fucking _pouted._ Never more did Error want to snatch that blade from the air and stick it through the skeleton’s teeth. “I thought the Protector would be a bit more strong-willed than he was. He barely lasted more than a day. It’s no fun dealing damage if they don’t _scream_.”

“You’re disgusting,” Cross muttered.

“Don’t knock it ‘till you try it, Criss Cross!”

The black and white skeleton glared at the back of the other’s skull. “ _Don’t_ call me that.”

“How the hell’d you shut him up?” Error interrupted. Both pairs of eyelights turned to him. He glared back, snarling. “What?!”

Killer snorted. “You almost sounded _concerned_.” He laughed, turning a corner abruptly. “Broke some bones, beat ‘im up a bit, forced a shit ton of that emotion paint down his throat— the usual. Honestly, we left him for a few hours yesterday when he was still snarkin’ at us and came back to him completely limp and emotionless. Nothing we did afterwards got any kind of reaction.” With a quick snap of his wrist, that knife was shot across the hall and embedded in the dark blue wall beside a metal door. When they reached it, he yanked it out and pulled the door open for them. On the other side was a dark staircase, lit up with blue fire torches.

Dramatic flair, as always.

Rolling his eyelights, Error descended first.

It sounded as though Ink’s paints wore off. That wasn’t unusual, if they’d forced him to drink them all at once. An overdose of his paints would usually make Ink throw them back up. They had no effect if they weren’t in his system.

Error didn’t know if this was a good or bad thing, but it did raise another question.

“What do you mean by emotion paint?”

Killer groaned. “Stars, you ask a lot of questions.”

“Shut the fuck up and answer me!”

“I can’t do both of those, Glitchy-Boy. Do you want me to shut up, or talk to you?”

“Killer, I swear to _fucking-!”_

“His paints are like pills,” Cross answered abruptly, looking annoyed at their bickering. “He drinks them to feel certain emotions. Horror figured it out. We think it’s how he remains so peppy and positive all the time. Whenever he feels negative, or if he’s overwhelmed going into battle, he could just change his emotions on the spot to get a clear head.”

_‘Wow. They’re so close, yet so far.’_

_‘It’s still concerning how close they are.’_

Still, they didn’t know Ink was soulless. Good to know.

As smart as the Gang thought they were, they really did jump to conclusions a lot. Nightmare didn’t, though, and that concerned him far more. If he even knew a small detail like that, he’d either abuse it, or dig into it until he found the whole truth.

Stars help them if he found out anything further.

They reached the bottom of the stairway, stepping into another, damper hallway. The walls were lined with cells. Most of them were empty, filled only with loose chains and scattered piles of dust. Different weapons were hung up along the walls as well, some carelessly left on the floors in certain cells. They were all rusty and well used. Cross took the lead now, walking to one of the farther cells and pulling a key from his pocket. He turned back around and held it out to the approaching glitch.

Error looked down at it and back up confusedly. “You’re just giving it to me? Don’t you have to, like, guard or whatever?” He thought he’d have to knock the two of them out before leaving. This would make things a lot smoother.

They really trusted him far too much.

Cross raised a brow. “I was told to escort you. I escorted you. I’m not a guard dog.” He dropped the key in Error’s hand. “Let’s go.”

“Aw, what? I wanna watch!”

“Now, Killer.” Cross glared at the other, shoving him away. Grumbling about Cross being “such a party pooper,” the other monster stomped his way back down the hall. He stabbed his knife into the wall on his way out, leaving the blade like a neon sign of his childish dissatisfaction.

As soon as the other was out of sight, Cross turned back to Error and pulled his mask down. Softly, he mumbled, “If you’re taking him, at least put a fake pile of dust in his cell so no one catches on.”

The Destroyer sputtered, glitches rippling up his arms and his eyelights blinking out.

Cross rolled his eyes. “Please. I walk into his studio and find him painting a damn cutesy picture of you curled up in a blanket. I know Ink. He wouldn’t take the time to paint something like that if it was just wishful thinking. Be glad I was the one to take him and no one else. I had to move the canvas so no one else would notice it when Nightmare opened a portal for me.” He pulled his mask back up and squinted at the other. “You won’t have to come say goodbye or anything. Just make it look like you did something at the very least.”

“Why the fuck are you helping me?!” Error hissed under his breath. “Aren’t you Nightmares _special_ hound ‘er something?!”

“Fuck Nightmare.” Cross shrugged, as if that wasn’t a statement that could get him a tentacle impaled through his back in a matter of seconds. The dark skeleton was almost impressed by his confidence. “I’d love to get out of this shithole, but I’m stuck here. Don’t expect me to cover your ass often. Now get the fuck out of here, before I change my mind.”

With that, Cross strode down the hall and left Error on his own.

_‘Daw, Crossy to the rescue!’_

_‘Damn. I was really hoping for some action. Boring.’_

_‘Yeah, I wanted a fight!’_

_‘Uh, maybe check on Ink?’_

Error shook his head, turning to the cell immediately. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered. “I just want one normal day, dammit.” Quickly, he jammed the key into the lock, opening it with a _click_ and pulling the bars open slowly. The rusted hinges squealed, making him wince. When they were open enough, he shifted through the gap and walked into the large cage.

The room was drowned in flickering shadows from the torches outside, making it difficult to see. He squinted his eye sockets, trying to get used to the lowlight. Nearest to the door, he recognized the torn remains of Ink’s scarf and sash, both muddled with dirt and ink to the point that all notes written along the fabric were completely lost. Some shards of glass also littered the floor. It took him a few moments to realize they were likely remnants of Ink’s vials. A few pencils and brushes that Ink had on hand were tossed carelessly among them, most of them snapped in half. What the purpose there was, he wouldn’t know. Knowing the Murder Trio, it was likely just petty glee in simple destruction.

This alone was almost enough to break Error’s grasp on his emotions, but his held on stubbornly. Taking a deep breath and avoiding stepping on anything, he moved further inwards.

Skeletons had better sight than most monsters, especially in the dark. It took a while longer for him, considering he spent the majority of his existence in a pure white space, but he was eventually able to make out the shaded form against the far wall. His soul clenched. “Squid?”

Two white pinpricks broke through the darkness, confirming his earlier fears.

“Shit, Ki…” Error muttered, kneeling in front of the skeleton. “The hell’d they do to you?” A rhetorical question, he knew, but he didn’t know what else to say.

Ink was slouched lazily against the wall in an uncomfortable position, a collar and chain attached tightly to his neck vertebrae. His clothes were torn to shreds, practically useless now, as they covered next to nothing. His right arm was snapped off at the humerus, leaving just the top half of the bone in the shoulder joint. Most of his tattooed ribs were either cracked, sliced, or missing completely. He had a lot of cuts across his body, really, most likely from Killer’s blade. Most notably was the ones around his eye sockets.

His own missing ulna was stabbed through his other hand, pinning it to the floor, and a large, spiderwebbing crack trailed from his eye socket and across the left side of his skull, as if someone bashed something to his head. Many of the pieces there were missing as well, leaving little holes in the bone.

He was drenched in his own black blood, a puddle of colorful dried paints smeared along the floor below him and trailing from his teeth. It was disgusting and terrifying all at the same time.

Still, Error couldn’t look away from those blank, white eyelights staring into his yellow ones. The left one was noticeably fainter than the other, showing that crack did more damage than to just his skull.

Ink looked completely emotionless. He _was_ completely emotionless. Error would never get used to seeing his usually hyperactive Ink so dull.

“Hey, Kiki,” he muttered softly. Ink blinked in response. “Can you talk to me?”

“Yes.” His voice was ragged and quiet, but it was there. That was more than the Destroyer expected.

“Good. You gave us a real scare, Kiki.” His hands reached up to tilt Ink’s head carefully, checking the collar. He did his best to ignore the ripple of glitches that swam up his arms from the contact. They faded moments later. “I’m gonna get you home, alright?”

“Okay.”

Error continued whispering while he fiddled with the collar, wrapping freshly made strings around it. He had to be meticulous about threading them between metal and bone. Last thing he wanted was to hurt Ink any more. “I’ll have to bring you to the Anti-Void for a little, if that’s alright. Can’t have them tracking me anywhere else, and I have to pick something up.” He shifted his gaze to meet Ink’s again, giving him an overexaggerated annoyed look. “I’m gonna have to tear up one of my dolls for you.”

“Sorry.”

His gaze relaxed. “Nah, it’s fine. It’s probably too morbid to have dust-filled dolls hanging above my bed anyway. Might get more guests if I got rid of a few.” Pulling his hand away, Error yanked on two ends of his strings sharply. With a _snap_ , the collar broke. Really, metal like this was nothing compared to the many souls he’d shattered in much the same way. He unhooked the collar from around Ink’s neck, letting it fall to the floor. Before he could address Ink again, Error’s gaze fell back to the collar.

“Fuck, should probably take that,” he muttered to himself. It’d be pretty obvious what happened if he just left a broken collar on the floor. Maybe he’d have Ink fix it later so he could claim to have kept it as a “trophy” later on. He imagined himself, with great satisfaction, throwing it in Nightmare’s face, claiming it was worthless if the Protector just came back to life anyway.

Shit. And he’d have to claim that, wouldn’t he? They’d have to let the Bad Sanses find out about Ink’s resurrection ability if he were to keep his truce a secret.

Was this really all worth it? Who knows what they’d do with _that_ knowledge. He couldn’t decide which possibility was worse: repeatedly killing Ink, or breaking him down to the brink of death, similarly to how he was now, over and over again.

Ugh. He’d have to talk to Ink about it. They could always come out about this whole escape plan later, if they decided his immortality wasn’t something the others should know.

Grabbing the collar, Error shoved it in his pockets besides the torn remains of the AUs he’d destroyed earlier. Ink’s eyelights never left his own.

“Alright,” Error muttered to himself, glancing down at the bone protruding from Ink’s left hand. “Stars, these fuckers are assholes.” As gently as he could, the Destroyer pulled the grey ulna out of the artist’s palm, resting the bone on his lap. He glanced around briefly, hoping to find the rest of the Protector’s arm. There was nothing but dust around them.

“Shit. I really hope you can magically paint back your limbs, Squid,” he muttered. He had to be able to. Error’s destroyed his arms before, right?

Actually, no. He really didn’t want to think about that, right now.

Yellow eyelights moved back to Ink’s. “You doin’ alright?” he asked. The other blinked but didn’t respond. He deflated a bit. “Yeah, I realize that’s a dumbass question. I mean relatively? Like, are you… stars, never mind. I’m gonna pick you up, alright?”

“Mm.”

“I’m taking that as a yes.” Despite the influx of ERRORs and fuzzy boxes that protested the touch, Error pulled the lighter skeleton into his arms bridal style, keeping his head propped on his shoulder. With little effort, he stood up and adjusted his grip. When he was sure Ink was okay, he opened a portal to his Anti-Void. The white light was blinding in the darkness, but the Destroyer hurriedly stepped through anyway.

Leaving the portal open, Error made his way to his hammock. He figured the beanbag wasn’t a good place to lay an injured skeleton down at the moment, though his hammock wasn’t all that much better. At least he knew Ink liked his bedding more. He had to will the strings to grow, lowering the nest of pillows and blankets closer to the ground. Slowly, Error placed Ink on the closest thing he had to a bed, pulling one of the blankets up to cover his exposed pelvis.

“Okay, I’ll be right back, and we’ll get you to Dream, alright?” Ink hummed again. Error scrunched his face a bit worriedly but turned back to the portal anyway. He had to finish things there, then Ink could have his full, undivided attention.

Raising his hand, an Outer Sans doll was released from the web above him, landing right in his palm. He hopped back through the portal again.

The head of the doll was torn off quickly, casually tossed over his shoulder and back through the portal. He messily dumped the contents of the body in the spot Ink had sat in. Dust covered the dried paint colors that dyed the floor there, leaving a convincing pile by the discarded chain he’d been connected to. Tossing the rest of the empty doll back into his Anti-Void, Error looked around the room briefly.

“Fuck this place,” he muttered, salty, before walking back into his home and letting the portal close behind him.

Finally free from the pressing issue of Nightmare’s empath abilities, Error let the fear and worry drown his soul.

With a brisk pace, he made his way back to Ink’s side. The other skeleton’s eyelights had blanked out, his eye sockets halfway closed.

Sleeping. Alright. He could deal with that.

He took a moment to look over the skeleton in better light. To put it simply, Ink looked like shit. If not for the fact that monsters can’t stay together after death, Error would have been convinced he was looking at a corpse. He thought the damage was bad in the dark, but now he could make out a thousand new hairline cracks and bruises he’d missed before.

For a moment, he wondered if killing the Protector would be the better option. A mercy kill. Ink wouldn’t have to suffer, and he’d be back by the morning.

Almost within the same second that thought came to mind, Error crushed it in horror. The fact he even _considered_ it scared him beyond belief.

There was no way he was killing Ink, resurrection or not. It was _not_ a pleasant experience, according to the Protector, so he preferred to avoid it all together.

He took a breath to calm his nerves again. Fear wouldn’t help him in this situation. He turned his eyelights back to the injured monster. “Probably shouldn’t move you.” Error ran a hand over his head, sighing deeply. “It would be so much better to get you in your own bed though, and I doubt Dream wants to come back here so soon… Fuckin’ hell.”

_‘Would Ink error-out in the Anti-Void?’_

_‘He doesn’t have a soul, so probably not.’_

_‘Oh! I hope so! We should find out!’_

Yeah, no. Ink’s own bed it was.

_‘You’re no fun anymore…’_

“You’re all fucking sick,” he growled, reaching out to pick Ink up once again. The Protector shuffled a bit, making Error freeze, but he relaxed into his grip moments after. With a sigh, Error opened another portal and walked into the Doodle Sphere.

Four heads perked up at his entrance. Blue was immediately jumping from his chair on the porch to approach him.

“Error! Did you-?”

“Dream, get your ass over here,” Error barked, making his way down the path to Ink’s home, brushing past Blue easily. He heard the Swap Sans’ sharp intake of breath as he moved past. “Someone make his bed. It’s a fuckin’ mess in there, and we’re gonna need all the fucking room we can get.”

“I…” Dream hesitated, his hands shaking at he took in his friend’s condition. Error could understand the fright, but they needed to move.

“ _Dream,_ ” he hissed, staring the other down. The Guardian jolted, shaking his head and moving to assess the damage. Reaper and Lust were immediately on their feet (relatively, in Reapers case) and moving inside, likely to ready Ink’s room as asked. Blue hovered anxiously beside him.

With a forced smile, Dream turned to the Swap Sans kindly. “Blue, can you make some tea, please?” At his confused glance, he clarified, “Ink has healing herbs in his kitchen. I believe they’re on the bottom shelf in his spice and tea cabinet— do you know which one I mean?” Blue nodded, eyes slowly regaining light. “Good. We’ll need it when Ink wakes. Hopefully that’ll be soon. Getting some water and rags would be great as well. Can you do that?”

“Yes… Yes! I’ll be right back!”

The small skeleton disappeared quickly into the house, leaving the other three outside. Error looked at Dream uncertainly. “Healing herbs?” he asked.

Dream gave him a look, momentarily taking his eyes off of Ink. His hands were hovering along the other’s dirtied bones, glowing a faint gold. “Yes?”

“Does he _actually_ have those?”

“Of course he does.” Gently, Dream guided Error into the house as well, walking backwards so he can continue his work. “Why?”

“Just sounded like an excuse.”

Dream glared up at him briefly. “I’m not trying to get rid of Blue. He’s a Star Sans just as much as the rest of us. He’s no child.”

Error blinked in surprise. “Uh, sorry?”

“It’s fine.” He pulled his hands away. “Most of the damage is minor. There wasn’t much intent behind their attacks, so his HP is still high. The most pressing concerns are his ribs, his… arm, and the wound on his skull. The rest can likely heal on its own. Come on.” The pair quickly made their way across the living room and to the stairway. Error had to readjust his grip a bit on their way, doing his best to ignore the prolonged contact. He continuously reminded himself it was just Ink.

They’d barely reached the top step when Lust poked his head out of Ink’s bedroom door. He nodded at the approaching skeletons.

“We changed some of the blankets on the bed because the others were a bit dirty,” he informed them, making room for Error to walk in. The room was cleared as much as the two could in a short time. All the items that littered the floor had merely been stacked or pushed to the wall. The bed was completely rid of most of the pillows Ink usually hoarded, leaving only one at the headboard. Reaper hovered on the other side, his hands clutching the comforter as he held it back.

Error carefully laid Ink in place, wincing as he saw the dark ink-blood stain his pastel sheets. A quick glance down showed his jacket and red shirt completely ruined. He’d worry about that later.

Lust walked up beside him and started to tear the remains of Ink’s clothing off, his purple gaze determined. Dream was immediately at Ink’s head, laying his glowing palms on the Protector’s forehead and cheek. Error stepped back to allow the two to work.

“What happened?” Reaper glided up beside him, looking at him in worry. Error couldn’t tell if that worry was for him, Ink, or both. His arms were crossed fitfully across his chest, likely pained at his inability to be of more use. Error could understand that feeling. “Did they find anything out?”

“I don’t think so,” he muttered. “They bragged about it, like I thought. Or, well, Killer did anyway. Nightmare easily let me see him, but I don’t know if it’s because he truly believed I was there to hurt the squid as well, or if he had something else planned.”

“Did anyone let anything slip?” Lust asked, balling up the ruined cloth in his arms, hugging it to his chest. The soaked fabric was likely staining the skeleton’s vest and crop top, but he hardly seemed to care.

“Yeah. They found out about Ink’s paints, but not his lack of soul.” His eyelights gravitated to the Protector once again. “They said they force-fed them to him,” his eyesocket twitched at the mental image of Ink screaming in agony, eyes flashing through color after color as the onslaught of emotions overtook his body, “and he definitely looks as though he’d been puking them up.”

“So he’s numb right now?” the Underlust skeleton asked hopefully. Reaper shook his head.

“His emotions are numb, not his body.”

“Did anyone see you leave?” Dream mumbled, his eyes still closed in concentration.

Error blinked, squinting in thought. “Wait, that’s right. Cross helped me.” That gained a few surprised glances, including Blue, who had just walked in the door. He held a small tray balanced on one hand with a kettle of tea and an empty mug. In his other was a bucket of water and a cloth. “He saw Ink painting, well, _me,_ and put the pieces together, but he didn’t rat me out. He told me to put down a fake pile of dust to make it more realistic.”

“Then Cross is on our side?” Blue asked hopefully, setting the tray down on the nightstand.

“Kind of… He said not to expect him to do anything for me, but basically professed his hatred for Nightmare.” Error shrugged, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “He’s kind of a middle ground, I guess. He’ll probably save his own ass over ours.”

Lust took a deep breath, looking away. “Good to know they’re not all assholes. That’s something, at least…”

“Shh, Ink, go back to sleep.”

All the skeletons present turned back to the bed. Dream was calmly running his hands over Ink’s skull, still glowing with his magic. Already, the cracks along his face were smaller and less noticeable. Those unfeeling white eyelights were locked on Error. “Hey, Squid,” the glitch muttered, crossing his arms and nodding towards the other.

“Should he drink some tea, Dream?” Blue asked uncertainly. “Since he’s awake.”

The Guardian hummed, furrowing his brows a bit. “I thought he’d be unconscious long enough for me to heal his ribs at least…” With a sigh, he sat back a bit. “Yeah… Yeah, it’d help ease the pain a bit. Help me sit him up.”

Since Lust had his arms full and Blue was filling a mug with the specialty tea, Error made his way to the other side of the bed. Reaper hovered over his shoulder annoyingly, but because he was likely worried about his brother, Error let it slide with no more than a slight glare. As he rounded the bed, Dream gave him a concerned glance. “Are you okay with everything right now?” he asked softly. The Destroyer grunted, already moving to help adjust the injured skeleton. His hands were shaking a bit, and the glitches running up his arms stung, but he hardly cared at the moment. His haphephobia could fuck off for the time being.

He’s been getting better with physical contact lately. It’s a slow process, and he’s not one for a lot of touching anyway, but when you’re around such affectionate friends so often, it’s something he’s gotten used to.

Especially Ink. He was a damn cuddle bug. Error had to push him off sometimes.

Still, when it came to helping the one’s now closest to him, he was willing to be a bit uncomfortable.

With Reaper providing some extra pillows to prop him up on, Dream and Error were able to easily settle the artist in a comfortable position more upright. Those eyelights flickered around the room occasionally, but mainly stayed on Error. It was a bit unnerving to see the skeleton so blank, especially when they didn’t know if he was hurting or not.

“Should we get him some paints?” Lust asked. He had left the room in the short moment they’d been occupied, dumping those ragged clothes somewhere else and coming back with gauze and loose pajamas. They likely wouldn’t be able to put any new clothes on Ink any time soon, but it was nice to have for later. “So he’s not as… unfeeling? I don’t know if this is better or not. I don’t want him to register the pain or be scared or anything, but it would be nice to know when something hurts more, y’know?”

“He’s not flinching or anything,” Blue murmured, handing the freshly poured mug to Dream.

The Guardian took it with a pained expression. “I… don’t know what’s better in this situation. He’s never been so hurt before.”

“Never?” Error furrowed his brows, sitting on the bed while Dream carefully helped Ink drink. The tea was a murky green, he noted. It didn’t smell very appetizing, but then again, he didn’t like much tea anyway. “Are you sure? He’s left some of our battles pretty beat up.”

“If he has, he fixed himself up then.” Dream didn’t look too happy about that.

“You could always ask him,” Reaper suggested, shrugging. “We’re sitting here, talking like he’s not in the middle of us all. What do you think, Ink? Want your paints or should we wait ‘till you’re a little better?”

Ink turned his gaze to his sort-of-brother, allowing Dream to pull the mug from his teeth. He blinked calmly. When he spoke, it was low and monotonous. “Later. I’ll likely fall asleep again. My paints would be useless and more bothersome than helpful.”

“If you think so,” Blue nodded, smiling weakly.

Setting the half empty cup back on the tray by the bed, Dream moved his palms to Ink’s chest. “Okay. I’m going to focus on his ribs and hand, then leave him to rest.”

“What about his…” Lust gestured to the missing arm. “I don’t suppose we have it to reattach?”

Error shook his head, sighing as he glared at the floor. “No. His ulna’s back in the Anti-Void, but it’s pretty useless without the rest of his humerus. It’s probably dusted by now, anyway.”

“All you found was his ulna?”

“Fuckers stabbed it through his left hand. The rest of the arm wasn’t there at all.”

“Stars…” Lust turned away. Blue had to sit down on a few discarded pillows, his hands shaking.

“Ink can use his paint to make a new arm,” Reaper informed them, his hollow eye sockets glaring at the offending stump of bone. His cloak, usually flickering like fire around the edges, flared aggressively with his emotions. “It’s just something he’ll have to handle later.” He closed his sockets, taking a breath, then turned to Dream. “For now, let’s just make sure Dream doesn’t exhaust himself any time soon.”

“I’ll be fine-“

“Shut the fuck up, you golden bastard,” Error hissed, unmoving from his position. “As soon as you finish whatever shit you said you needed to, go eat something and take a nap. You’re of no use if you pass out on us.”

“Error’s right.” The Swap Sans curled his arms around his knees, gazing up at Dream’s back. “You can’t wear yourself out. It’s not healthy.”

“You can sleep in the guest room downstairs while we watch him for the night,” the glitch told him, his tone challenging anyone to disagree. When no one did, he nodded to himself and turned back to Ink.

His eyelights were hazy, but still focused on Error. He was obviously struggling to stay awake, the stubborn ass. Error almost snorted at it, if it weren’t so damn annoying.

“Go to sleep,” he muttered, shifting to lay his back on the headboard more comfortably. He briefly expected Ink to try and grab his hand, but he sat to the artist’s right, so there was no hand to grab. The thought snuffed his growing frustration quickly. Hesitantly, the Destroyer shuffled a little closer, allowing Ink’s shoulder to lightly press against his forearm. It was the closest thing to comfort he could provide. “We’ll be here when you wake up, Kiki.”

Ink stared at him a moment longer, then his eye sockets slowly closed. A bit of the tension around the room eased into a relaxed silence, filled only with the slight humming from Dream’s continued use of magic.

Everyone around the room settled into their own spots for the time being. Reaper brought the stool from Ink’s studio in for Dream to sit on when he noticed the Guardian getting a little wobbly. He then hovered in the corner of the room farthest from them all, sitting on air, as he usually did. Lust took the wet rag and bucket and started cleaning Ink’s bones wherever he could reach. It wasn’t great in the end, but until Ink could take a shower or bath himself, it was likely the best they could do. When he had the dirtied water pushed to the side, Lust finally situated himself beside Blue, allowing the other to lean his head on his shoulder.

Their worry and fear hadn’t dissipated, but the relief of having Ink back in his own home was quickly overtaking it.

Even still, Error’s guilt was showing its ugly head.

He leaned his skull back against the wall, glaring at the ceiling. He should have checked in on the artist. He usually did. It didn’t matter that Ink was the Protector and could easily take care of himself. He was forgetful and stupid sometimes, and that often got him in trouble. Error always sent him a text at the very least, just to make sure the idiot remembered to feed himself while in the studio, or to rest after a patrol.

He _always_ checked in. Go figure the _one time_ he didn’t, the worst happens.

Really, what kind of… whatever he was, was he?

_‘You can say boyfriend.’_

_‘Honestly, thought you were past that.’_

_‘Don’t influence him. They don’t have to label it if they don’t want to!’_

_‘I mean, he kinda fucked up this time. They might not be_ anything _after this.’_

Error forcefully shoved the voices to the back of his mind, clenching his fists.

“Error?”

Yellow eyelights snapped down to meet similar, kinder ones. Dream gave him a tired look.

“Stop,” he said.

“What?”

“Stop thinking what you’re thinking. I can feel it. Nothing that happened was your fault.”

“I fucking-“

“You fucking _nothing_ ,” Dream muttered, looking back down at Ink. Error sputtered, not used to the Guardian of Dreams to blatantly cursing. “No one was around, and my brother took full advantage of that. It’s what he does, unfortunately. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s theirs.”

“You brought him back,” Blue added, smiling sweetly. “I hardly think you can blame yourself for anything after that.”

Gritting his teeth, Error looked away. “I still should’ve noticed sooner…”

“Bullshit,” Reaper muttered, almost looking amused. “If you should’ve, then I should’ve as well. It’s not your responsibility to check up on him all the time, but you try. I do as well. We all try to check up on each other. That doesn’t mean we’re gonna be able to do it all the time.” He shrugged. “We’re going to forget. We’re going to get caught up in our own lives sometimes. As much as we want to watch each other’s backs, we can’t do that twenty-four-seven.”

“This was an unfortunate turn of events,” Lust agreed, leaning his head on top of Blue’s comfortably. “It’s bad, but Ink’s strong. He’ll be healed and back on his feet in no time.”

“Mweh! And we’ll be here to help him along the way!”

Error looked around the room, mildly surprised. These skeletons were so closely knit and supportive of each other, it scared him sometimes. They really were like a family.

He didn’t know when he last had one of those.

He wasn’t sure if he was technically in this one, either. Surprisingly, he wasn’t against the idea. He had his brothers, in a way, but that was against his will, honestly. They were the ones to seek him out, never the other way around.

Stars, when was the last time he really trusted someone? Was it Paps? Did he trust Geno like these skeletons trusted each other? Fresh? Ink?

Error didn’t know. He’d never thought about it. Even when he was helping the Gang, he never saw them as much more than tools to get his way, _maybe_ friends on a good day. He was so used to relying on himself, when had that changed?

Dreams head nodded forward a bit, startling the Guardian. It shook the Destroyer from his thoughts. “You should rest,” he mumbled, looking down at the injured monster. Ink’s ribs were mostly back together, with a few missing pieces here and there. The cracks were just hairline fractures now, hardly noticeable under his many decorative tattoos. The few missing ribs would have to be fixed alongside his arm. Dream was currently still working on his left hand, but it was clear his stamina was running low.

“No, I’m alright,” the Guardian insisted, squinting his eye sockets in concentration. “I just need to…”

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” Error reached forward to grab the comforter around Ink’s pelvis, moving it up to cover the skeleton. Doing so blocked Dream’s access as well. Thankfully, the other didn’t protest much. “Ink keeps granola bars in his studio. You should go grab a few, and rest downstairs.”

Dream blearily shook his head. “I’ll grab one, but I’m not going to sleep downstairs. I’ll just take the floor.”

“We’ve got it handled in here, Dream.”

“I know. I know, but…” He sent a worried glance at his friend. Error sighed.

“Alright. At least make a decent bed though.”

Dream smiled thankfully, standing from his stool. He quickly wrapped some of Ink’s worse remaining injuries, like his hand and arm stump, before finally moving to leave the room. Lust watched him go, Blue half awake on his shoulder. He adjusted the two of them a bit more comfortably on the pillow, reaching over to the pile they’d moved off the bed to grab a yellow blanket. Reaper closed the blinds to the room, cutting off the eternal golden sky from their view and switching the lights in the room off.

When Dream came back, sinking into his own spot near Lust’s other side with a stolen heart pillow and what suspiciously looked like one of Error’s blankets, the group settled into a comfortable silence around the room.

Error closed his eyes, faintly registering the sound of Dream opening his snack’s package. With a sigh, he relaxed.

“Hey Error?” Lust whispered across the room.

“Hm.”

“Never heard you call him _Kiki_ before.”

A yellow glow flushed his cheeks, red eye sockets snapping open. “Shut up!”

Lust cackled.

It was a _long_ night.

-:(o):-

“Errooorrrr…”

Error grumbled, turning his face away from the finger poking his cheek. The pressure did not ease up and a little snort sounded in front of him.

“Ruruuu! Wakey wakey!”

“Shut _up_ ,” he grumbled, furrowing his brow and shoving the hand away from him. “Fuckin’ sleepin’.”

“ _Yes_ , but we figured you’d wanna be awake. You can sleep again later!”

With a groan, Error cracked his eye sockets open to glare into sparkling green and yellow ones. Ink’s face was right before him, leaning too far into his space. They were laying in his bed still, Ink kneeling closely to his side casually. When their eyelights met, the artist’s smile brightened considerably.

“There you are!” he beamed. “Good morning, Ruru.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You guys are so cute.” Jolting, Error snapped his head towards the foot of the bed. Blue was sitting cross-legged on the comforter, his grey armor replaced by an oversized baby blue sweater that likely wasn’t his. His usual bandana was still around his neck, though. He smiled apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you!”

The Destroyer stared at the Swap Sans for a moment, trying to figure out why he was in Ink’s room. There was a bit of nervousness in the smaller skeleton’s blue eyes as well, eyelights flickering back to Ink repeatedly. When Error’s confused gaze fell back on the artist, they immediately locked on the small, mostly healed cracks in the side of his skull.

Flashes of the day before sprung to his mind in a flurry of images. All traces of sleep were immediately shoved from his body.

“Ink!” he growled, sitting up to better face the other. “You should be resting, idiot!” Despite still being in his bed, the now pouting artist was definitely not laying down, sitting on his knees as he was. Some fresh bandages had been swathed around his ribs and the stump of his arm, most already dotted with black splotches. He was completely bare-boned otherwise, besides some pajama shorts to cover his pelvis, thankfully.

“I’m fiiiine,” Ink drawled, waving his wrapped hand dismissively.

Error glared. “You are _not_ fine. Lay down.”

Those eyelights peaked back at him, sparkling a mischievous pink and purple. “Only if you lay with me!”

The dark skeleton paused for a moment before glancing at Blue, ignoring Ink’s whines for attention. “You guys gave him his paints?”

“Yeah!” Blue nodded with a smile. “He asked for them when he woke up not too long ago. We figured you’d likely want to be awake now because of that.”

Error hummed appreciatively, looking around the room briefly. “Where are the others?”

“Lust and Dream are making breakfast and Reaper had to work. He said he’d come back later, likely with Geno.”

“Ruru! Don’t ignore me!”

Sighing dramatically, Error turned his gaze back to Ink. “Let me _talk_ , Squid.”

“Talk while laying down with me, then!”

Rolling his eyelights, Error gave in easily. He wasn’t too keen on denying Ink’s requests when the skeleton was in this state. Hopefully his haphephobia wouldn’t act up too much at the moment. He did like holding the other most the time, they just didn’t get to do it very often. Working of his messy jacket of, Error cringed a bit at the dark stains covering his red T-shirt. Ink’s multicolored eyes flickered along them as well. “Er, sorry for ruining your clothes.”

Balling up the jacket and throwing it to the floor, the Destroyer shook his head. “Whatever. Just help me make new ones later.” At Ink’s accepting nod, Error adjusted his position to lay down more comfortably on the bed. His back twinged from the uncomfortable position he’d been in most the night, leaned against the headboard rather than a pillow, but he ignored it in favor of the skeleton now happily using his arm as a pillow.

He stared down at the other for a moment, surprised by how fast Ink fell into his embrace.

_‘Ink’s acting weird.’_

_‘Is he? I thought he was pretty bubbly though.’_

_‘Bubbly doesn’t mean normal, idiot.’_

Blue cooed from his spot on the bed, unknowingly interrupting the growing conversation in his head. He’d be thankful if not for the almost teasing expression on his face. Before he got the chance to say anything embarrassing, Error kicked out his feet under the covers, pushing the Swap Sans over the edge of the bed. He fell to the floor with a satisfying yelp.

“What was that for?” Blue whined, peaking cautiously over the blanket.

Error glared at him. “You know exactly what that was for.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You were going to!”

“What was that?” a new voice interrupted. Dream peaked into the room with a worried expression, Lust popping in seconds behind him. Dream had changed his usual attire to a simple teal hoodie, small stars adorning the shoulders and bottom. Lust had his usual purple vest on, but with a full-length black tank top beneath it. Shimmering golden eyelights landed on Blueberry sitting sadly on the floor and all tension fell from the Guardian’s shoulders. “Stars, don’t scare us like that.”

“Dream! Error’s being mean!”

Ink, who was still laughing to his side, waved his hand in a calming gesture. “Error’s always mean! It just means he’s feeling better now!”

“ _I’m_ feeling better?” he asked incredulously.

Ink nodded in full confidence. “Yes! You were all mopey and worried yesterday.”

“I-“ Error paused, looking at the artist in mild disbelief. “You say that like I _shouldn’t_ have been worried. Ink, you scared the shit out of me.”

“I know, but I’m fine!” Ink smiled up at him, shifting so he was pressed closer to Error’s side. “Even if something did happen, I’d be right back within a few days. It’s nice that you care, but you didn’t have to go through so much trouble.”

The Destroyer had to take a moment to process that, squashing the anger that wanted to well up in his soul as best he could. Seeing Dream squirm a bit across the room, he assumed he wasn’t doing a great job at that. “The _fuck_ , Squid?”

“What?”

“How the hell can you be so _casual_ about this?!”

“He’s been like that all morning,” Lust muttered, crossing his arms. “Just playing it off like it wasn’t something to be concerned about.”

“It isn’t!” Ink looked around at them in confusion. “It’s not as if I could actually _die._ And after my paints wore off, it wasn’t all that bad. I couldn’t really feel fear or anything. It really wasn’t anything to stress about.”

“Ink, that’s not…” Blue shuffled to his feet, running a hand down his face. “We’re still going to worry about you. You’re our friend! We don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Just because your emotions wore off doesn’t mean you didn’t feel pain,” Lust muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

“Not to mention however long you were there with them _before_ your paint wore off,” Dream added.

“ _And_ you would still remember what happened to your ass, no matter how much paint you had in your system,” Error grumbled, still glaring down at the Protector. “You were fuckin’ hurt — _tortured_. Soul or not, that’s gonna have some lasting fucking effects.”

“Ruru, it’s fine, really! I don’t remember most of it anyway-“

“Bullshit!” Ink actually flinched back at that. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to yell. The Destroyer paused to breathe for a moment, scrunching his eye sockets closed. “Any other time? Yeah, I’d believe you. Your memory’s shit on a good day, and I’ve seen you get beat the fuck up with a dorky grin on your face too many times to count. You’re strong as hell and hard to shake up. _But_ , even you have your limits.”

“What do you-?”

He held up a finger, cutting Ink off. “First off, we all know how your paints work, so don’t start spewing bullshit about not feeling fear. You might get a rush of something from one color, but it can still mold into a different feeling depending on your environment. No matter what, you very well could have been scared there.”

“But I have no reason to-!”

Once again, Error cut him off, holding up a second finger and glaring harshly. Ink’s teeth clinked shut. “ _Two,_ you have specifically told me how much you _hate_ dying. You come back, yes, but that doesn’t mean you fucking like it. It hurts, it’s overwhelming, and the entire process isn’t exactly rainbows and butterflies.” Ink didn’t try and speak up this time, and neither did anyone else. Error lowered his hand to lay on the artist’s shoulder. “Fuckin’ finally, I know you’re fucking lying about it _‘not effecting you’_ because you _always_ ask for permission to touch me before trying to cuddle or hug me or anything. The fact that you _didn’t_ shows desperation.” Ink’s eyelights, now a blue raindrop and violet crescent, turned away from his own, staring at his crimson shirt instead.

Dream walked further into the room, sitting sideways on the bed, his left leg pulled up beside him. “You don’t have to lie to us, Ink. We want to help you. It’s what we’re here for.”

“You guys taught me that it’s okay to not be strong and magnificent all the time,” Blue whispered, smiling reassuringly. “That goes for you as well!”

“You may be the Protector of Universes, but let _us_ protect you sometimes as well.” Lust came to stand beside Dream, laying a hand on the Guardian’s shoulder. “We’re here for you just as much as you’re here for us. Really, it’s the least we could do.”

Ink’s shoulders were shaking a bit. Error pulled away enough to see blue tears welling up in the artist’s eye sockets. A bit of yellow swirled in the liquid magic as well, reassuring him that Ink wasn’t crying just out of fear or sadness. He pulled the skeleton in for a tight hug, ignoring the rippling of ERRORs along his arms. Ink melted into the embrace like a wet paper doll.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he mumbled. Ink breathed a wet laugh, gaining a small smile from the darker skeleton. “You have people around you. Don’t push them away.”

Ink’s hand clutched his shirt harder. He didn’t make a noise besides slight sniffling and the occasional rattle. With their legs tangled together and Error’s chin propped on his head, the group sat in silence for a while, just relaxing in each other’s company.

They’d have to talk about it later. Stars knows there’s a shit ton of things to discuss now. They had to think of what their next move would be when it came to the Bad Sanses. This would either be the end of Error’s spying, or an increase in Ink’s own protection. Either way wasn’t ideal, but it was the best they could do.

They’d need to talk about Cross, and what they’d do with him. Error had no doubt that the Stars would want to free Cross from his current restraints, but he knew it would be a lot harder than that — especially with Nightmare’s intentions so up in the air as they were. He still wasn’t convinced the Guardian of Negativity would so casually let him “kill” a prisoner as important as Ink, let alone see him or be alone with him.

There was also Ink’s wellbeing in general. If their moment right now was anything to go by, Ink would need some sort of help getting back into the swing of things. He had no doubt the artist would bounce back quickly, no matter what, but Error had a feeling there would be an increase in nightmares between the both of them. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to get the image of Ink laying so still and broken in that cell out of his mind, and he was sure it was the same for Ink and his experiences. He could already sense the sleepless nights ahead of them.

... He'd _also_ need to talk to the squid about a certain painting he was making despite Error's clear refusal.

However, those were issues better left for a later conversation. Right now, all he wanted to do was hold his maybe-boyfriend with their friends close by their side.

They stayed like that until Ink’s shivering calmed down to the occasional twitch. Error’s shirt now also had dark purple stains along the shoulder, effectively ruining it completely. He’d have to throw it out besides Ink’s own shredded clothes. The other three Stars had all moved to sit somewhere on the bed in the time they sat there, careful to avoid touching Error, but close enough to lay a hand on Ink comfortingly if need be.

The atmosphere had finally calmed down when someone coughed from the doorway. They all jumped and spun around.

“Don’t mean to _kill_ the mood over here,” Reaper grinned, casually floating on his side with his head propped up on an imaginary surface, “but you left food out in the open in the kitchen. Luckily, you all had the sense to turn off the stove, but I’m pretty sure a lot of those pancakes went cold.”

“Oh shit, sorry!” Lust hopped up from the bed, rushing out of the room. “We got distracted.”

“That’s alright. Geno’s down there seeing if he can reheat them.”

“Oh! We should cut up some fruits!” Blue scrambled from his spot, jumping excitedly. “Fruits always go great with pancakes!”

“I think there was some berries and a cantaloupe in the fridge,” the Underlust skeleton nodded, tilting his head in thought. “There might have been apples as well?”

“Mweheh! If not, we can always stop by my house!”

“You have more than just tacos?” Lust teased.

“Yes! I’ve been trying to get more of a variety! And berries are nice to snack on!”

“Blue, how could you? That’s cannibalism.”

Their voices trailed off down the hallway, leaving the others smiling once again. Dream rubbed tenderly at the few tears he had in his eye sockets and stood up as well. “I’ll go make sure no one burns the kitchen down cutting fruits,” he chuckled. He patted the lump that was Ink’s legs under the blankets. “We’ll bring everything up here in a bit.”

Ink pulled away from Error a bit, rubbing at his own eyes with a small smile. “Yeah, thanks.”

“No problem.”

As the Guardian walked out as well, Reaper turned to look at the two still on the bed. His smirk softened. “It’s nice to see you awake and colorful again, Ink.” He reached into his robe for a moment, pulling out a long brown fabric. Ink’s eye sockets widened at the sight of a brand-new scarf. It had a very subtle pattern a shade darker than the fabric, giving it a wavey, almost flowery look up close while keeping the solid color from afar. “I was saving this as a present for a birthday or something, but now seems like a better opportunity. Where else would you write down random notes? Paper? Nah.”

Ink grinned, reaching out to take the scarf from the other. His thumb ran along the soft detailing. “Thank you, Reaper.”

“Of course.” He nodded at the two of them, backing away again. “I’ll bring your brush up when we come back. I’m sure it’ll be more comfortable to have both hands and your ribs while you’re eating.”

With that, the two were left alone once again. Ink messily wrapped the scarf around his neck with minor help from the Destroyer before leaning back into the other’s chest. He breathed a sigh, then turned his eyelights up to meet Error’s. “Thank you, too, Ruru.”

Error blinked, tilting his head in confusion. “For what?”

“For coming for me, duh.” Ink giggled a bit, bumping his forehead to Error’s chin. “I… kinda didn’t think anyone was going to. Not because I thought you didn’t care, but because I thought it was… easier to just let me ‘respawn’ than to risk someone else’s life. But… thank you, for getting me before I dusted down there. I appreciate it.”

“Fuck, Squid, you think I’d just leave you there willingly? I was ready to storm that fucker’s castle and delete all their asses.”

Ink snorted. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t do that, at least.”

“It’s still a _major_ possibility.”

He laughed this time, curling forward a bit. Error rolled his eyelights, but smiled, nonetheless.

**Author's Note:**

> No, I don't plan on continuing this. Mainly because I don't know how I would lmao.
> 
> This came from a question I had earlier, wondering how Ink would react to pain and such without emotions, then whether the Bad Sanses would see that as like, finally "breaking" him, etc etc. I'm not one to write actual torture fics, but aftermaths? Yeah, sure.
> 
> Come yell at me:  
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